Picking Up The Pieces -- (Revised)
by Caren Rose
Summary: "What can you do when everything falls apart?" The crew of the USS Taurus pick up a visitor who proves to be more than meets the eye. And everything they have come to know is slowly falling apart. Set in 2428 and later, approximately 45 years after the events of the tenth movie, Nemesis. Not in continuity with the 2009 or later movie. Please R&R!
1. P'logue: Underground & Ch 1: Diagnosis

**Super-Note:**

I have undertaken the task of re-writing the earlier chapters of PUTP. In the several years that it has taken me to write this, I have not only developed certain characters, Olivia especially, more thouroughly, but I have also acquired more knowledge about these characters themselves, simply by writing them. Unfortunately, this left a story with inconsistencies, primarily in characterization. In addition, the "Chapter X, Part 1/Part 2" thing was a little excessive, so I have re-numbered chapters and am aligning them with 's chapter drop-down selection.

* * *

**Picking Up the Pieces**

* * *

**Author's Note:**

All original characters by me, Star Trek franchise not by me.  
This story was originally written to be a sim story, meaning it is supposed to be accompanied by pictures from the Sims 2. See it with pics at SimTrek, MTS, or my site. (Google "sim trek picking up the pieces" for simplicity.)

* * *

**Prologue: Underground**

Cirtri. Situated in a quiet little corner near Federation space, it didn't seem like much would happen there. The planet itself was beautiful, serene, a good vacation spot. If it weren't for the fighting.

For many years, the two rival governments of Cirtri had been fighting a war of sorts, a war of threats, alliances, and midnight stealth attacks. The two often involved themselves in the affairs of such powers as the Federation and the Romulans, supporting their respective allies with technology and supplies, and getting the advantage of having someone much bigger on their side.

And thus was the situation now. Within the Federation, there was a near-rebellious coalition of developing worlds that wanted a faster rate of technological development than the Federation thought was good for them. Their former leader, a peaceful, charismatic man, had been assassinated and replaced by someone with much more militant ideas. Cirtri's Lecxéan government began showing concerning support for the faction's new leader.

So, the Federation sent unofficial ambassadors T'Lea and Kareb to their unofficial ally, Xis, to try to swing events in the Federation's favor.

While they were there, however, Lexcé attacked Xis' capital city, Euneva-Kwa, in the middle of the night, forcing a complete evacuation of the city into its extensive network of underground tunnels.

It was from this situation that Capt. Andersen and the USS Taurus was sent to rescue them, and return them home.

* * *

**Chapter 1: Diagnosis**

* * *

Dr. Hernandez, Chief Medical Officer, straightened several PADDs on her desk and instructed the computer to turn off her office lights.

There was a sharp rapping on the transparent aluminum walls, and her assistant, Dr. Steve Mackenzie, was standing outside waving.

"Computer, unlock doors."

The door slid open. She stared at him.

"Hey, Olivia. Uh ... are you leaving?"

"I left a message to your terminal."

"Oh. I haven't checked it yet."

"On your request, I leave a message every day to inform you when I leave." Which was at the same time every day. Yet he still insisted on stopping her on random days on her way out.

"I ... I'm right next door. Like ... two meters away."

"Yes, you are."

"Well, um, anyway, goodnight, Olivia. See you in the morning." He still stood in the doorway, blocking her way out

"Goodnight."

He turned and went back into his own office, and Olivia left Sickbay, taking her usual route back to her quarters, which took her through the guest quarters section before officers' quarters.

Rounding the corner to the guest quarters' corridor, she saw a dark form lying, motionless, on the floor. She fumbled for her medical tricorder as she picked up her pace.

As she neared, she recognized the robes the person was wearing and realized it had to be T'Lea, the Vulcan un-official they were bringing home. She dropped to her knees on the floor and felt for a pulse, finding one, and finally succeeding in retrieving her tricorder. T'Lea was not breathing.

She tapped her combadge and called the EMH in sickbay. "I need an AG-lift at my location immediately."

He appeared next to her with the anti-grav stretcher in less than ten seconds.

"She's cyanotic," he noted. "What happened?"

"I found her here like this. She's apneic, heart rate at 150." She turned to him. "Help me lift her up."

Once they got T'Lea up on the stretcher, she began breathing again, and both Olivia and the EMH hurried to scan her.

"Resps returning to normal," The EMH reported.

"Good."

They ran back to Sickbay. "Hypotonia, mild lactic acidosis ... Probably post-ictal," Olivia said. "Find her husband for me, we will need to talk to him."

Sickbay's doors opened and Steve met them at the doors. Doc, the EMH, disappeared to find Kareb.

"You're back. What happened?" he asked as they transferred T'Lea to the main biobed.

"I found her apneic and bradycardic, heart rate at 150 ... both pulse and resps have returned to normal. Hypertensive, hypotonic, mild lactic acidosis, decreased cortical activity ... "

Steve read the results of the scan passed to his tricorder. "Seizure?"

"Put the results of a full head scan up on the lab screen."

Steve nodded.

They worked quietly for a few minutes, Steve coordinating scans, Olivia testing reflexes, level of consciousness, and such, noticing that Steve kept moving in more and more towards her personal space.

"What are you doing?"

"Running scans."

"You're too close."

He stepped back. "Sorry." He turned and walked off to the lab screens.

T'Lea moaned and started to roll onto her side.

Olivia came to her side. "T'Lea, can you hear me?"

She moaned in response.

"Steve," Olivia called. He looked up at her, but didn't return.

"Where ... am I?"

"You're in Sickbay. You've had a seizure."

"Kareb?"

"I don't know where he is. The EMH is finding him."

Steve spoke up. "Where is Doc, anyway? He should have gotten back by now, shouldn't he?"

"I don't know." She turned back to T'Lea. "T'Lea, I need to know, have you ever had a seizure before?"

She slowly rolled over so her back was turned to Olivia, and mumbled, "Just leave me alone."

Olivia sighed. "T'Lea, this is important."

"Leave me alone."

"I am sure you are in some pain, and not feeling well, but a seizure can be a very serious sign ..."

T'Lea groaned.

"Olivia," Steve called, interrupting her. "I've got your scans up over here. I think the questions can wait 'til later." He motioned towards the screen.

She shook her head and followed.

"Look."

The scan revealed three large areas of past damage where healthy neurons had grown completely intertwined with damaged ones, some even forming connections with the damaged cells.

"I'm guessing this isn't her first seizure," Steve said. "You're the neurologist, what do you think?"

"Neurosurgeon," she corrected. "Computer, show overlying structures."

What appeared was a skull with healed fractures, each lying directly over an area of damage.

"Depression fractures." Steve sighed. "Blunt-force trauma."

"Computer, give me the approximate age of injuries."

"Level of healing consistent with injuries greater than fifteen years in age. Estimates past this point in time may not be accurate."

She walked back over to T'Lea.

"T'Lea, this isn't the first time you've had a seizure, is it?"

She groaned and rolled over. Olivia had awoken her. "No."

"What happened?"

"I thought I asked to be left alone."

Olivia sighed. She often had trouble getting her patients to tell her what she wanted to know ... surgery was so much easier than this.

Suddenly, the EMH appeared in the doorway. "Kareb wants to know if his wife will be returning to him tonight."

"You didn't bring him?" Steve asked.

"It appears our patient has a history of recurring seizures. He is not concerned."

"So he's demanding her back?"

"No. He wants to know if she is returning tonight, and if she is not, he will come here to Sickbay. He also wishes to know if she has regained consciousness yet."

T'Lea attempted to pull herself into a sitting position. "Yes, I will be returning."

"I don't think that's a good idea." Olivia said.

"Tell him I'm on my way." With that, she stood up, albeit unsteadily, leaning on the bed for support. Steve rushed over to catch her if she fell.

"Don't ... touch me."

"You're leaving against medical advice," Olivia said.

"I know."

"You have to sign ..."

T'Lea cut her off. "Just leave me alone."

"We're only trying to help you," Steve said, still standing close enough to catch her if she fell.

"At least wear this." Olivia held out a neurocortical monitor. "It'll alert Sickbay if you have another seizure."

T'Lea shook her head and groaned, but allowed Olivia to put it on. With that, she walked out of Sickbay, slowly and supporting herself along everything in her path.

"Doc, follow her. I don't want her falling and hurting herself."

He nodded, and followed.

"Well, then ..." Steve began.

"Well then what?"

"That was interesting."

"That was not 'interesting.' She left AMA."

"Yeah. I think we managed to upset a Vulcan ambassador."

"I do not think we should have allowed her to go so easily."

"What should we have done? Restrain her? You can't do that, Olivia."

"You could have convinced her to stay."

"_I_ could have, huh?"

"Yes."

"Well, I'm glad you have confidence in my abilities, then. But I don't think she was going to stay no matter who talked to her." He headed towards his office. "Well, Olivia, I need to get back to what I was working on before you guys came in. I'll see you in the morning."

"I also have work to do. I will be in my office."

"You just left for the night like, half an hour ago. You have more work now?"

"Yes."

"Relating to T'Lea, am I right?"

"Why does it matter?"

"It doesn't, really. I just ... have you eaten supper yet?"

"No."

"Well ... uh, we ... I don't have any patients now, so maybe we could sit, you know, grab something to eat, sit here and talk, you know, collaborate. Work ... together."

"I prefer to work alone."

"I - I know ... I just ... you know, never mind. It's okay." He turned back towards his office, muttering under his breath, "Don't know why I even try. You probably hate me anyway."

"I don't hate you."

He whipped around. "You heard that?"

"You are not as quiet as you think."

"You don't hate me."

"I don't."

"Then why do you go out of your way to avoid being around me, Olivia?"

"I don't. I do not avoid you. I spend more time with you than with anyone else in the department."

"Yeah ... at work. 'Anyone else in the department.'" He sighed. "It's just work to you, isn't it?"

"It is work. What do you want it to be to me?"

"I want us to be friends, you know ... like you and Thelis. You spend time with him, you go running with him every day. It's not like I'm jealous ... but, I mean, would it kill you not to shoot me down every time I suggest doing something together that's not required by our jobs?"

"Thelis and I exercise because it is good for our health. We converse about things related to work."

"Well, then."

She cocked her head to the side.

"Look, Olivia, I know you spent a bunch of time at Starfleet Medical, where you didn't have to live with and deal with the people you worked with all the time. And I understand that you've been hurt, in the past. I get that. You know, I know it's got to be hard for you. And ... and, I'm sorry. I just ... please don't push people away because of that."

She looked back at him, both confusion and pain written on her face.

"Hey, I ... I'm sorry. I guess I shouldn't have brought that up."

"If you wish, I will spend time with you tonight."

"You don't have to, Olivia."

"Do you want me to spend time with you or not?"

"I do, but ..."

"Then I will. Do you want to work in my office?"

"Sure."

"Then go get a PADD."

* * *

Steve sat in his office. Olivia had actually made an effort to do something with him. But he felt terrible, like he'd guilted her into doing it.

It wasn't even anything that wonderful. They sat on the couches in the little "waiting room" inside her office, she ate a big plate full of plain rice, and they talked about neurology.

Now she was still there, still working, almost three hours after she was off, two hours after he left her alone again. She'd probably end up falling asleep there tonight, like she had so many times before.

He didn't know what it was about her, why she could drive him crazy but he still couldn't stop thinking about her. Why he'd gladly take her abrasiveness over her absence any day.

How had this happened, he wondered almost every day now. How had he fallen in love with her, fallen so hard?

And why couldn't he help but let tonight give him so much hope?


	2. Chapter 2: Remainder

**Chapter 2: Remainder**

* * *

**Ten Years Ago**

He liked flowers.

She'd hurt him once, because of flowers. One of the frequent misunderstandings they had, she didn't see how dead flowers were anything positive, and he had gotten upset, offended by what she had said.

They had gotten through that, and so many other misunderstandings like it.

He gave her things she liked after that - old medical equipment to display, skeleton models - and she began working on a wall-sized display of replicated flower petals arranged by the Fibonacci sequence.

The first time he had tried to propose to her, she wasn't expecting it, anything like it, and was totally unprepared. She had said she would have to consider it. She wasn't really one to make big life decisions on the fly like that.

And so she had hurt him again. She didn't mean to, she never did, not him.

But they got through that, too. He never gave up on her.

Three weeks after the first attempt, he proposed again, and she accepted.

Then came the Tholians, the war.

He left to fight, and she stayed, aboard a medical ship. She reattached and restored functionality to severed limbs, innervated prosthetics, fixed and replaced intervertebral discs, attempted to repair damaged spinal cords, to fix badly damaged brains. During surgery she wore the ring on the necklace he gave her before he left. A necessity for a surgeon, he had said. She didn't want to ever take it off.

Then, one day, she received a message, saying he and several of his team had been taken captive.

The war went on, several of his comrades were rescued, but he did not return.

Some of her colleagues tried to suggest to her that he might not ever return.

But she had made him flowers. Flower petals. A wall-sized display of them. Roses, because that was romantic.

He had to return.

And he did return. After the war was over, a part of a prisoner exchange.

Bruised and broken, starved and scarred, he returned to her.

She sat with him for hours every day. She helped him sit, walk, to rebuild muscles wasted away. She tried to feed him when he wouldn't eat. She tried to hold him when he needed comfort. She cared for him. She loved him.

But he was pushing her away.

Their head counselor worked with her, tried to explain, to teach her how to help him heal.

But all the things he had once done for her, all the things he had once asked, were gone. She wore the ring he had given her, but he treated her like a stranger.

As his physical recovery continued, she demanded an answer.

He said he was not half the man he once was. He was broken, defective. She deserved better. He told her that they should break their engagement. He would be nothing but a burden to her the rest of her life. He wished to free her of himself.

How could she give up on him, when he hadn't given up on her so many times before?

But he was giving up now. Giving up on her, on everything.

All those times before, all those things they had been through together, didn't count for anything.

She tried to win him back. So she brought him to her quarters, to show him what she had created for him, what had been waiting for him for months.

Because he liked flowers.

But he didn't like _her _flowers.

He insulted her gift, insulted her, and left, leaving her standing there wondering what might have gone wrong this time.

She destroyed the flower-thing. She destroyed months of work, shattering glass everywhere, until her floor was a minefield of shards too scattered to pick up. Then she kicked and threw things and tore apart the room, destroying everything in sight until she had no energy left.

Then she withdrew. From life, from everything, from everyone. She reported for duty like she was required, but she refused to speak to anyone and she avoided anyone who might try to speak to her.

He didn't try to bring her back. He didn't try to talk things out. He didn't even tell her what she had done wrong. None of the things he used to do, he did anymore.

The automatic cleaning system helped her pick up all the little pieces of glass, and she began to wonder if maybe this could be solved if she apologized. In the thousand times she had replayed the situation in her mind, she could not find anything she'd done wrong.

But maybe she had missed something.

Because all she really wanted was for things to be right again.

* * *

Walking down the hall.

Doors open.

His quarters. Something off, something wrong. Panic setting in.

His things, cast around the room. Disarray.

She smelled blood. Something wrong ... her stomach flipped. Something ... wrong ...

There was blood. Too much blood. Too much ... His eyes ... glazed, empty.

A scream caught in her throat. She couldn't move. She can't move.

Part of her there, part of her watching.

Blood.

Labored breathing, slow, irregular.

Yellow shirts entering the room.

Pushing forward, falling forward, on her knees. Blood on her hands.

Blue shirts, arms pulling her back. No more breathing. No more sound.

Too much noise.

Cardiac stimulator.

No ... she couldn't lose him ...

Ventricular fibrillation ...

Hold on ... just hold on ...

Asystole.

As the pieces of her life shattered, she began to scream.

She awoke in dim light, the cold comfort of her office surrounding her. She wiped sweat from her neck, tears from her eyes.

Breathe in ... breathe out. Deep breaths to calm her racing heart. She spun the ring around her finger, let out a sigh. She wouldn't get back to sleep for a while now. She never could after she'd had the dream.

Olivia paced through the empty Sickbay. Steve was in his office, working. She didn't want him to know.

She wandered between the counters in the lab.

There was a sudden noise, and she gasped, turning around to see what was behind her.

It was just Steve, coming out from his office. She exhaled slowly.

"Olivia," he called across the empty room, "are you okay?"

"It's nothing you need to know," she mumbled back.

"Olivia?"

She walked over to him, slowly.

"You had the dream again, didn't you?" He knew her too well.

"I ... how ..."

"I heard you scream."

"Oh. It ... doesn't matter."

"If you need to talk about it, Olivia, you know I'm here."

"I don't want to talk about it. Nothing's wrong."

"Olivia, I heard you scream. This isn't the first time. I just don't think that nothing is wrong."

"Dr. Mackenzie, I don't care what you think, but I said I don't want to talk about it."

"Sorry for caring," he mumbled, but was cut off by a sudden beeping. He sighed and checked the source. "It's T'Lea, she's having another seizure! That's two ... in less than eight hours!"

He headed for the door, grabbing a medkit from the shelves. Olivia bolted past him, down the corridor. This couldn't be good.

* * *

The door was locked, so they waited outside for an answer, hoping Kareb would be there. They hoped he was awake, hoped he knew what was going on ...

Finally, he emerged, slowly. He looked ... pained, for a Vulcan.

"Kareb?" Steve asked.

"Yes. I apologize for making you wait, but I had to make sure she would not injure herself." He stopped, searching their faces, perhaps trying to gauge if they saw his distress. "I assume that is why you came, because of the seizure."

Olivia nodded.

"I understand your concern." He paused. "However, it has been nearly forty years, that she's had these seizures, and ..."

"Wait, forty years?" Olivia inturrupted.

"Yes."

"That - that's ... What happened?" She stepped closer to him, he turned and stared at the light on the floor.

"Thirty-seven years ago ...

* * *

Thirty-seven years ago, T'Lea and Kareb were attending a conference on interplanetary trade, held at a hotel on the planet Xitene. They had two seven year old daughters staying at home with family, while they brought their newborn son along with them. It was only the first day of the conference and they had just broken for lunch, when they heard screams. Something had gone horribly wrong.

A local but powerful xenophopic group had established a base for themselves in the hotel, and, having waited for a break, kidnapped as many people as they could from the conference. They separated their hostages by race: all their own were still held against their will, but treated fairly, and all others were, well, not treated so fairly.

T'Lea and Kareb were placed in a room with a young Andorian kid, who was quiet, kept to himself most of the time. That evening, he barely picked at his dinner, some meat dish which neither T'Lea nor Kareb touched. Kareb wrapped their son tightly and was putting him to sleep, when the Andorian made his move.

Every stretch of hall was watched over by two guards, one at each end. Their room was near the middle, slightly closer to one side than the other. Kareb hadn't really seen what happened, all he knew was that the Andorian tried to escape, the guard from the near end of the hall ran after him, raised his weapon to shoot, and was dropped unconscious to the floor by a neck pinch from T'Lea.

The guard from the other end of the hall, a big muscular guy with a short temper and a solid metal club, came running. Finding his comrade lying on the floor, dead for all he knew, he attacked. Kareb watched from behind the open door, forced to choose between saving his wife and protecting his child, as the guard struck her on the head.

With the first hit, she stumbled back, falling against the wall for support. He struck again, this time she fell to her knees. Through their bond, Kareb could feel her pain, could feel her starting to slip into unconsciousness. Then, another hit, this one crushing the back of her skull, smashing her face into the floor. There was no more pain. The guard, satisfied that she didn't respond to a hard kick in the stomach, dragged her into the room. Kareb stepped back, arms raised in a gesture that he hoped would convey he was unarmed, but anger threatened to overtake him. The guard advanced, now holding a syringe of clear liquid, backing Kareb into a corner. There was only one way to escape: the balcony, a route that meant sure death for him, his wife, and his son, if it was not sure already. If he chose to fight, he knew other guards would only come and finish them off, he knew he would be unable to fight them all.

He only hoped whatever the vial contained would not be lethal.

Two days later, he awoke to find a young Xitene girl rocking his wailing infant. She told him how she had been sent the night before to shut up the starving baby, how she'd been encouraged to just toss him over the balcony's rails, how she found T'Lea face down on the floor, conscious but unable to move, struggling to breathe through her own vomit. She told him how she'd tried to lift her up, but couldn't, and turned her on her side. She told him about the violent convulsions early that morning, and how, when she finally woke up, she was able to move again.

T'Lea was asleep on the bed. Kareb fought hard to keep back the tears. Blood oozed from her ears, her nose, and the large gash on her forehead. It had filled in her orbits, giving her dark bruises beneath her eyes. He gently caressed her face, but she did not respond.

* * *

"For the first week, she couldn't speak. She couldn't see, that last strike damaged her occipital lobe. She still remembers nothing of the first two weeks after she was attacked. At that point, she still didn't have many seizures." He took a slow, deep breath, then continued. "She got meningitis, just when we thought she was beginning to recover. Then, the seizures increased, she began having five, seven a day ... Finally, after about three months, she was starting to do better, she was slowly getting her sight back, she was able to get up and walk around, to take care of our son. But she was still having seizures. I told her, when we got home, I was sure there was something they could do for her. Six months after the injury, we were still there. We were not able to escape until it had been two years. Everyone else who tried before then was shot on sight." He paused again, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. "When we returned to Vulcan and were able to seek medical help, we learned that there was nothing anyone could do for her. Had we had access to care even six months after the injury, they would have been able to help. But due to the regrowth of healthy neurons into the damaged areas over time ..."

"I saw that," Olivia said suddenly. "It's inoperable, at least by any conventional means."

"Right. Now, the only thing that can help her is drug therapy. With anticonvulsants, instead of 3-5 seizures every day, she only has about four a week."

"Only?"

Kareb suddenly looked back at the closed door behind him. "She's regained consciousness. I must go."

"Thank you," Steve said, "We appreciate you taking the time to tell us all this."

Awkwardly, Olivia offered, "I'm a neurosurgeon ... If, uh, if she wouldn't mind, I'd like to talk to her."

Kareb simply turned and went back into his room.


	3. Chapter 3: Offering

**Author's Note:**  
With each successive chapter, less and less has changed. So if you have already read it, it may seem familiar. Either way, enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 3: Offering**

* * *

On T'Lea and Kareb's second evening aboard the _Taurus_, Captain Andersen invited them to a formal dinner with his senior staff.

Olivia had been asked to come - being a member of the senior staff - but she had convinced Steve to come along with her, citing her dislike of overly fancy social events. He had agreed readily. Really, she just felt like having someone there to back her up when she talked to T'Lea.

For nearly an hour, they had all sat around drinking synthehol and making small talk.

There was a sort of uneasy silence between Olivia and T'Lea throughout the whole time. Olivia knew better than to bring up the previous night's events - she was required to keep them confidential - but she had come prepared for the end of the dinner, when she would have a chance to talk to T'Lea alone.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of listening through mindless chatter, forcing herself to remain politefully alert - she had only slept three of the last thirty-six hours - people began to say their goodbyes and goodnights.

Olivia moved herself towards the back of the crowd that had formed around the Vulcans. Slowly, the crowd dwindled until there was just Steve ahead of her, talking to Kareb.

Motioning T'Lea towards her, she picked up the PADD she'd brought along. T'Lea came, followed by Kareb, then Steve. She hadn't counted on having an audience.

"T'Lea," she began, handing the PADD to her, "I think you should come into Sickbay for some tests ... there've been new procedures developed since your injury, and I think there's a possibility I'd be able to help you."

Kareb stepped forward and took the PADD from his wife. "We appreciate your concern, Dr. Hernandez, but that won't be necessary."

"No, I'm serious. This really could work. I think -"

"_No thank you_, Doctor. We do not require your help."

"But -"

"Olivia," Steve said quietly, placing his hand on her shoulder. "Let's go."

She shrugged off the unwanted touch as Kareb and T'Lea turned away, heading for the exit. She started to follow.

"Where are you going?" Steve asked.

She turned, about to make some excuse, but Steve just shook his head.

Frustrated, she turned again and went for the opposite exit. She knew what she had to do next. She just didn't know if it would work.

Sickbay was empty and there was nothing left to do, so Steve let his curiosity get to him.

Olivia hadn't had a reason to spend the night in her office again, so Steve sat down at her desk, looking for a way to find out what information she'd given T'Lea.

On the top of a stack of PADDs sat an article, seven years old, detailing promising new surgical techniques to carefully remove damaged brain tissue. Among the authors was none other than Olivia Hernandez, MD.

Steve sighed. Of course she would think her own work could solve everyone's problems. Olivia was one of the top neurosurgeons in Starfleet, if not the entire Federation.

He started skimming over the summary. She'd described the procedure to him before. Despite her earlier behavior, it looked like she actually had a point. This could actually help T'Lea.

* * *

"I need you to talk to someone."

Olivia stood in the doorway of the counseling office, the Vulcan head counselor's back turned towards her.

"Who? A patient?" T'Kara asked, turning around.

"T'Lea."

"I heard what happened earlier. How you offered to help them ..."

"They refused."

"Olivia, my job as head counselor is not to make people listen to you."

Olivia just stared at her.

"Do you really have a legitimate reason for wanting me to talk to her?"

"She's been living with this for thirty-seven years. But when I say I can help, they want nothing of it."

"Perhaps they're tired of being poked and prodded and experimented on."

"This isn't just experimentation. I've proven it actually works."

"She's an interesting case, isn't she?"

"What?"

"There's so many things you could learn, it's such a great opportunity ..."

"Are you going to talk to her or not?"

"Olivia, face it. To her, you're just like countless other doctors who've taken interest in her before. You believe you'll be able to cure her, but all that becomes of it is a series of tests and invasions into her personal life. Wanting to avoid that does not require the further prying of a session with a psychiatrist."

"I think she may have stopped taking her medication."

"How did you come to this conclusion?"

"When we talked to Kareb, he said with medication she has about four seizures a week. Without, she has about that many a _day_." She paused. "She's had three in the past 24 hours."

"I believe your conclusion may be valid. I'll have Ms. LaVena talk to her."

"I don't want Staci to do it, I want _you_ to."

"Do you doubt her competence?"

"No, but you're Vulcan, you'll have a better chance with her."

"To suggest to a Vulcan that they need to see a psychologist implies you believe they are unable to properly deal with their own emotions. Were this suggestion to come from another Vulcan, it would likely be taken as a grievous insult."

"I don't care."

"Olivia, you cannot insult your patients."

"So will you talk to her?"

"I don't believe it would be wise."

"Why would you send Staci?"

"She may be more inclined to give her the 'benefit of the doubt' than with me."

Olivia crossed her arms.

"Why don't you try to talk to her yourself? Try to work on using your empathy?"

"You're the empath."

"You don't have to be an empath to talk to her, Olivia."

"I don't think they want to talk to me."

"Why?"

"They told me to leave them alone."

"I'll see what I can do."

"Will you talk to her?"

"I'll see what I can do."

"Does that mean you will talk to her?"

"I suppose so. I'll be apologizing for your behavior."

"I don't care."

"You really must work on your interpersonal skills, Olivia. They'll do you good."

"I'm a neurosurgeon, not a shrink."

"You don't have to turn all your patients and staff against you to be a good neurosurgeon."

"I _am_ a good neurosurgeon."

"Olivia, just try to be nice to your patients, please."

She shrugged.

"I know we've had this conversation before. Steve and I cannot be nice to people _for_ you. You need to make some effort."

"Steve seems to think things are good."

"Steve will think _everything _is good because he is in love with you."

"I wish he'd stop."

"_Goodnight,_ Olivia. I will see you at the department meetings tomorrow." She turned back around.

"When will you talk to her?"

"On my own time. This conversation is over now, Olivia. Goodnight."

* * *

The ship's operations manager and science officer, Solkan, sat in the dark in his quarters, the doors locked, light from his desk comm screen illuminating his face. He spoke in quiet tones with a man named Jeremiah Hanson.

"Their names are T'Lea and Kareb," he said for the second time.

"I assume you've found something of interest about them beyond their recent activities on Cirtri?"

"They have potentially useful ties to Romulus."

"Solkan, you know the Romulans are not our main concern right now." He paused. "Alright, go ahead."

"They were ambassadors from 2356 to 2380, most notably, the Vulcan ambassadors to Romulus from 2371 to 2380. They adopted the child of the Romulan ambassadors to Vulcan in 2379, after Shinzon's coup. This effectively ended their career as ambassadors. Eight years later, in 2387, they were taken hostage and T'Lea was severely injured. Ten -"

Hanson interrupted. "Hold on. Just because they had ties to Romulus over forty years ago does not mean they are of any interest to us now, Solkan."

"Beginning in 2356, the year they became ambassadors - with only a 10-year break after T'Lea's injury - until eight years ago, they have been active agents in V'Shar - Vulcan's intelligence and security agency."

"What happened eight years ago?"

"The former director of V'Shar retired and his replacement had a different outlook and philosophy on how it should be run. However, whether this was their reason for resigning is unknown. Since then, they've been working for themselves, usually furthering the direct interests of the Federation."

"Are you absolutely sure about their _current_ ties to Romulus?"

He hesitated.

"I'll look into this. In the meantime, you need to keep focused on your goal. Remember that."

"I always do."

"No, you haven't been. Everything you've brought to me recently has been about the Romulans or the Tholians. You're concerned too much with the past and not enough with the present, Solkan. Our main focus should be on the state of the Federation right now, not on wars that ended years ago. Understood?"

"I understand you've looked into everything I've given you, even 'recently.'"

"Only because I'm obligated to check every lead I get, no matter how promising or how absurd."

"Of course."

"Have Calais contact me tonight. I need to speak to her about a few things."

"Of course."

The screen went black.

* * *

At 0800 the next morning, Staci LaVena, first-year psychiatric resident, walked into the Counseling office for the start of her shift.

"You're fifteen minutes late," came the voice from within one of the private session rooms.

Staci was taken aback. The Vulcan hadn't even turned around. "I'm sorry," she began. "I was just -"

"No explanation is necessary, Ms. LaVena." A pause. "You'll be working with Dr. Hernandez today."

"I'm not scheduled to work with her until tomorrow."

"I am aware of that. You will also work with her tomorrow."

"Oh."

"Now, I have a patient to see." She headed for the door.

"Shouldn't I come -"

"I will be speaking to my patient alone, Ms. LaVena. Dr. Hernandez is expecting you."

She sighed. Following T'Kara out of the door, Staci walked across the hall to Sickbay. She wondered to herself if this was some sort of disciplinary action for being late, or if there was something so important about T'Kara's patient that she couldn't shadow her like usual, or ...

"You're late."

"Sorry, Dr. Hernandez. I was -"

"I need you to start this for me," Olivia began, motioning for Staci to come closer. "I need you to look through these articles and write up a short summary of each for me."

Staci looked at the stack of PADDs on the counter.

Olivia then walked over to Dantarea Antekais, the Aeorsian biological sciences intern, asking her to do something else

"Wait, Dr. Hernandez," Staci called. "Where are you going?"

"I have things I need to do today, Ms. LaVena. I would appreciate if you both have your work done by the time I return." With that, she turned on her heel and walked out of Sickbay.

Staci looked at the headings on the top few articles. None of them were about psychology. Vulcan neurology, the treatment of seizure disorders in various species, some neurosurgical procedure she'd never heard of before ... Dr. Hernandez often did this to her, giving her busywork to do that never related to her field. Olivia seemed to have little interest in psychiatry, even neuropsychology. Everything with her was straight neurology, neurosurgery ... and all very complex.

"What does she have you working on, Dantarea?"

The colorful-haired girl just shook her head, indicating she had no idea.

Staci nodded, wondering why there had to be so much mystery today.

* * *

**Later that day**

"She's very determined."

"Stubborn. She can't take 'no' for an answer."

"Maybe we should give her a chance."

"She sent their head counselor after me to 'talk' about things. An empathic Vulcan. I will not let Olivia pry any further into our private lives."

"She sent the head counselor ..."

"Yes. She told her I'd stopped taking my medication. Did you tell Olivia that?"

"No. I would not do that."

"But you told her how many seizures I've been having so she would figure it out."

"T'Lea ..."

"We don't need her 'help,' Kareb. We don't need the intrusion."

"But if there's the possibility -"

"No."

He fell silent. _You know I can hardly bear to see you like this._

_I've had epilepsy for 37 years._

_Yes, but it hasn't been this bad, since ..._

_I know. But I can think so much clearer, faster now that I'm not taking it._

_I fear for you._

_Fear is -_

_Logical. With as many seizures as you've been having ..._

_It hasn't happened yet._

Finding their hands clasped together, T'Lea backed up, distancing herself from him. "I want you to talk to her assistant, Dr. Mackenzie. Find out what her interest is in me. Find out why she can't back down. Then perhaps we can get her to leave us alone."

"I don't think it would be right of us to use him like that. Besides, we'll be back home soon enough."

"She thinks she can 'fix' me. Our being home won't stop her for long."

"It's still not right to use Dr. Mackenzie like that."

* * *

"Kareb!"

Kareb turned, realizing the voice was that of Dr. Mackenzie's. Steve ran towards him.

"I was hoping to find you here," the doctor said.

"I am on my way to talk to Capt. Andersen. What can I do for you?"

"Oh, well, if you're busy ... There are just a few things I would like to talk with you about. Perhaps we can set up a time? This evening?"

"The captain and I are only having lunch. I will be free in approximately one hour."

"Sounds good. I'll be here."

* * *

"Thank you again for taking the time to talk to me, Kareb."

Kareb nodded, now finding himself caught between his own curiosity, his desire to help T'Lea, and what he said he was so against, using Steve only as a way to get Olivia to back down.

"I'd really like to talk to you about Olivia's offer," Steve began.

"We said we're not interested."

"I know. And trust me, I'm not here because she sent me. But I read what she gave you, and I feel I need to try to do a better job of explaining it to you, rather than just shoving it at you and saying 'this will fix all your problems.'"

"Do you believe it _could_ 'fix all our problems?'"

"I do believe it's likely it would at least do some good, yes."

"You sound unsure."

"I won't make empty promises. But I do think it's a plausible option."

"Alright. What exactly does this procedure entail, that it is any better than anything else we've tried?"

"Are you familiar with GANST, gene-activated neurosomatic tagging, or AST, active synaptic tagging?"

"Remind me."

"Well, basically, both methods tag neurons based on different criteria. GANST can find and tag neurons by a specified RNA sequence, while AST tags any and all synapses, at the axon terminal, that fire within a certain amount of time, determined by a buffer chemical. Then, of course, the tagged neurons are removed or destroyed surgically."

"We've had doctors tell us that _both_ procedures would work, only to have them fail in simulations."

"Alone, they both have many problems. They tag too many cells, or not enough."

"Yes. Either they would have provided no reduction in the frequency of her seizures, or they would have destroyed good neurons, losing function that could have taken a year or more to recover, if ever."

"Olivia's developed a procedure that combines parts of each tagging method. Not all hyper-excitable neurons in the seizure focus contain the same RNA sequences, and some healthy cells have it. Likewise, in AST, since there is still normal activity occurring in the early stages of a seizure, there's a very high likelihood of tagging good neurons. What Olivia's done is found a way to combine the two methods, in addition to further identifying the RNA sequences that should be tagged. That way, only neurons that are tagged by _both_ methods are removed."

"Why couldn't they have been combined 25 years ago?"

"The solutions used for each procedure sort of canceled the other out. As GANST has improved, it now uses different solutions that are more compatible with AST."

"What would Dr. Hernandez' procedure involve?"

"She would introduce the solution into the cerebrospinal fluid near each seizure focus, and give it time to diffuse. The GANST starts tagging immediately. As the AST buffer turns on its tagging, she would trigger a seizure, causing the affected neurons to fire, and be tagged. The buffer turns it off just before the seizure activity breaks through the inhibitory surround." He paused to let the information sink in. "She would then run a simulation with the neurons tagged by both methods removed, to check for seizure control or loss of function. If the results aren't good, she tweaks the tagging protocols and tries again."

"How many times will she have to try?"

"Knowing Olivia, she's probably already run tons of simulations of the procedure, so it shouldn't be many. Perhaps ten? That's a rough estimate though."

"Ten? You want me to convince my wife to let Olivia trigger ten more seizures than she normally has?"

"She would only let it go as long as it takes to tag the cells."

"Then have her pumped full of anticonvulsants until she's unconscious, or until Olivia can't trigger any more seizures, whichever comes first?"

Steve fell silent, probably trying to think of a response.

Suddenly changing the subject, Kareb asked, "Dr. Hernandez doesn't like to give up, does she?

"If you're saying she's stubborn, yes, very."

"Does she pursue many of her patients like this?"

"No, not many. But not many people tell her no." He chuckled softly. "She's one of the best neurosurgeons in Starfleet - in the Federation - so you can imagine that's not something she gets a lot."

"How many neurosurgeons are there in the Federation?"

"Not many."

"How good is 'one of the best,' then?"

"Excellent."

He nodded, raised an eyebrow. "And she designed this procedure herself?"

"Yeah. Well, along with a few other doctors."

"Then it's no wonder she's so sure it will work."

Steve nodded, looking disappointed.

"She has taken quite an interest in us. More than other neurologists have. It's almost as if she has a personal interest in what happens to T'Lea."

Steve sighed. "This _has_ happened before. Not often, but it has. Last time, it was a kid with a disease that slowly turned his brain, essentially, into mush. That time, it was her persistence that let him live as long as he did. Now, I could be wrong about this - it could just be that she sees you as such an interesting case. But I think with _you_ her interest is primarily because she has epilepsy. And though -"

"Wait, what?" Kareb cut him off mid-sentence.

"Yeah, Olivia has epilepsy ... Oh. You didn't know." He paused. "I'm sorry. Olivia's pretty well known in and around Starfleet Medical, it's not often we come across someone who doesn't already know ...

"How can she be a surgeon?" he asked, eyebrow raised. Before Steve could answer, though, he said, "Is the epilepsy why she's so well known?"

"It's part of it, I'm sure. But there's a lot more to it ... Starfleet Medical Academy _loves_ being able to claim one of the Federation's top neurosurgeons as their own. Plus, she's been involved in some pretty high-profile stuff in the past. She was on a medical ship during the Tholian War, too, and along with other doctors, was given a sort of hero-status at the time ... And she's developed or helped to develop various new procedures ... In fact, I was a little surprised you didn't already know of her."

"We haven't exactly been looking for a neurosurgeon recently."

"Not recently at all, I suppose. She's been pretty well known for a while now. In fact, what's considered her greatest achievement, a procedure to fix severe spinal cord and peripheral nerve injures, was finished almost six years ago now."

"So, epilepsy?"

"Right. Absence seizures. They're a brief, nonconvulsive type of seizure, a sort of 'staring spell.' They keep a _very_ close watch on her. She has them maybe once every five years, if that. It's practically non-existent now. Hasn't really been an issue since she was a teenager, wanting to get into Starfleet."

"Is she on any kind of treatment?"

"No. In fact, she reacts rather badly to many anticonvulsants."

The eyebrow went up again.

Steve gave a quizzical look.

"Nothing."

Suddenly, Steve's combadge beeped. "Mackenzie here," he answered.

"Steve, you're late." Olivia's voice called. "Department meetings began five minutes ago."

The doctor sank down in his chair. "I'm sorry! I'll be there right away."

"I don't think you realize that when you are late, it comes back to me. I may not outrank you, but as the Chief Medical Officer, I'm responsible for everything you do. I already have enough to worry about with Solkan without you being late to department meetings. Which were scheduled far enough in advance that you should not be late!"

"Alright, I'm sorry! I will be there as soon as I can!" Turning to Kareb, he said, "Thank you again for taking the time to talk to me. I'm sorry to run out on you, but I really don't need angry superiors breathing down my neck for a month."

As Steve ran out, Kareb wondered how T'Lea would react to what he just found out. He just hoped it wouldn't make things any worse than they already were.


End file.
